Entry:The Applicant
by Out of this World Contest
Summary: Fight Club isn’t enough for Edward anymore. He needs more.


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Anonymous "Out of this World" One-Shot Crossover Contest

**Title:** The Applicant

**Movie Title, TV Show or Book and Author:** Fight Club

**Recognizable Character(s) from other world:** Tyler Durden

**Rating:** M

**Disclaimer:** Ms. Meyers owns Twilight. Mr. Palahniuk owns Fight Club. I own nothing

**Summary:**Fight Club isn't enough for Edward anymore. He needs more.

* * *

Stopping on the cracked sidewalk, I looked at the slightly crumpled paper in my hand.

_Paper Street_

No address, just the name of the street. I glanced up and down the abandoned road, seeing empty lots, factories and one lone house.

_Fucking desolation_, almost perfect.

Upon closer inspection of the house, I saw it was a dilapidated piece of shit. Broken and boarded up windows, missing shutters, chipped paint. It seemed absolutely fitting.

_Has to be it._

The _porch _was unmistakable. It extended the full length of the front of the house with support beams that looked like they could barely hold the roof up. In fact, the roof of the porch was lopsided at best. This property had to be condemned. I closed my eyes and thought that this was going to serve as my home for the next couple of days.

Hitching my duffle bag up on my shoulder, I did an evaluation of it's contents.

Two black shirts.

Two black pair of trousers.

One pair heavy black shoes.

Two pair of black socks.

Two pair of plain underwear.

One heavy black coat.

One white towel.

One army surplus cot mattress.

One white plastic mixing bowl.

I was still a little confused over the items but Jasper assured me they were needed. He had given me the typed out list a few days ago. "Oh, and you need five hundred dollars," he said emotionlessly.

"What the fuck do I need that much money for? I thought I was going to be living in a basement, sleeping on a cot."

"It's personal burial money. In case something happens during an…assignment." He pointed down toward my foot," You keep it in your sock and make sure it's secure. I'm not paying for that shit." My jaw dropped. I think my balls shrank at the thought of being killed during an _assignment_. Jasper noticed my hesitation and was quick to reassure me.

"Don't worry, no one's died yet."

_Yet._

Fuck! My luck I'd be the first person in Project Mayhem to get killed and it would be in some insanely ridiculous way.

I ran a nervous hand though my hair and walked up the crumbling steps onto the porch. I had to wait here three days. No food, no water, no bathroom. Three days of harassment and mental fuckery. Thankfully, Jasper had been gracious enough to warn me what I was in for, though it was technically against the rules.

"Most of the applicants give up after the first day. One guy even cried. Another guy shit on himself from fear and nerves….. and really I'm telling you too much," he said looking away from me. He was kinda desperate to get me into Project Mayhem. He thought I needed a new outlook on life. Jasper was the one that dragged me to the dank basement under the bar he frequented. That was three months ago. He said to me then he was saving me from myself and needed a new direction. He told me he identified too much to who I was and felt he had the golden ticket so to speak, and offered this opportunity, If that's what it was.

I remembered that day very clearly. It was the day that changed my life……

* * *

"Where the fuck are you taking me?" I asked. All I wanted was to de-stress with a captain and coke. My mouth started to water as I noticed a full bar lining the far right wall of the front room. Jasper pulled my arm straight past the bar. His grip was firm and authoritative.

"I can't tell you. It's against the rules."

"You can't tell me but you can show me?" I asked incredulously.

He raised both eyebrows in amusement, "Well…that's not specified in the rules." I briefly wondered if my friend had started smoking crack in his spare time. The closer we got to the heavy wooden door the more animated his face became.

Down the stairs we went and I didn't fail to notice that the wooden handrail was stained dark brown. Immediately, I was hit with the stench of old blood and sweat. The level of testosterone that hung in the air was palpable. There had to be close to a hundred men crammed into the tiny concrete room. All shirtless and barefoot.

"Fuck, Jasper?" I pulled at his shoulder for him to turn around but he still had a hold of my arm and didn't budge. "Am I about to be gang raped?"I hissed through my teeth, quietly… because damn I wasn't going to say anything about being raped out loud in this room. I was digging my heels into the floor, attempting to stop from being dragged into what I thought was something totally fucked up.

"Jesus, Edward." He let go of me and rolled his eyes. He leaned in close to my face, his own shrouded in annoyance. "No. This…" he swept a hand out over the restless crowd. "…is the answer to all your problems." I blinked rapidly and let out a shaky sigh, knowing full well if I tried to leave he'd just lug my ass back down here. I must have looked complacent because he stepped back, folding his arms over his chest. Jasper opened his mouth to speak again but a hush fell over the crowd. Jasper quickly made to stand behind me, effectively drawing more attention to myself. I looked back at him ready to speak but he shook his head.

"It's him. It's Tyler." A man standing a few feet away whispered in awe. The man's face actually lit up with anticipation, he literally vibrated where he stood. I quirked an eyebrow and looked again to Jasper for an explanation; he brought a finger to his lips to shush me. I didn't know what the fuck was happening or who Tyler was but I kept my mouth shut. The crowd began to part, forming a circle in the center of the room. I peaked around the sea of heads in front of me to get a glimpse of what was going on.

In the middle of the circle stood a man, he was the only person besides Jasper and I wearing a shirt. He crossed his arms and scanned the room. For a brief second, I swear I saw a smile flicker across his face but it quickly turned serious.

"I see a lot of new faces," he said holding his chin in the air, seemingly looking down his nose at the crowd.

A chuckle went through the mass of bare-chested men as they looked around at one another smiling and chatting to themselves.

"Shut the fuck up!" The person whom I assumed to be Tyler shouted. His voice carried through the room harshly, mirroring is anger. He rubbed the back of his neck as he glared at the closest men around him.

The room immediately went silent.

He dropped his hand from his neck, "Which means a lot of you have been breaking the first two rules of fight club."

He started walking along the edge of the crowd. He put his arm up in the air, waving one finger in the air, "First rule of fight club, you do not talk about fight club!" The men in the room started to collectively nod in agreement. He then raised another finger, "Second rule," he yelled. "you DO NOT talk about fight club!"

Fight club?

It suddenly clicked in my head. I've been hearing whispers and mumblings of an underground fight club for over a year now. Guys went there to kick the shit out of each other for fun. This was obviously where Jasper disappeared to three nights a week. It's explained the scars that now covered his face and upper body and his sudden change in attitude.

"If this is your first night, you have to fight." I vaguely heard Tyler shout out this rule.

"What?!"I said loudly. A couple of assholes turned to stare at me but luckily no one else heard. There was no fucking way I was going to fight. Jasper noticed my hesitation.

"Dude, you have to. I swear you'll feel it….the change," he whispered, putting a hand on my shoulder. He squeezed my shoulder confidently. I wanted to question him, to find a way out of this but Jasper narrowed his eyes and let a sly smile jet across his mouth.

"Newbie!" he shouted to the men around him and I was suddenly pushed to the front of the crowd.

I felt awkward and exposed as the many men looked me over, gauging me with hateful eyes and clenched fists. They looked at me like they were out for blood, _fresh meat_. I held my ground trying really fucking hard to not show that I could be intimidated. This felt equivalent to being thrown to the wolves. And I was no fucking sheep. I tensed my back as a man started asking who wanted first dibs.

It didn't take long; I was tapped for a fight almost immediately. Like I said, _fresh meat_. I hadn't been in a fight since high school and I had gotten my ass beat. I knew I couldn't back down, this was some serious shit. I swallowed the huge lump in my throat as I stripped off my shirt and shoes. The guy that picked me seemed as nervous as me; it must have been his first time as well. I felt a smidgen of relief. If I played it right I could use his nervousness against him and maybe not get the shit beat out of me.

We stepped into the center, briefly circling each other. I wanted to try and drag this out, hoping for a loophole in these rules but I was punched square in the jaw. It almost knocked my off my feet. What the fuck?! This guy wasn't so nervous after all. As I recovered, I wanted to be pissed off. I wanted to retaliate for just being sucker punched but…I didn't. I just stood there as he punched me again. After my daze wore off I swung on instinct, my fist connecting with his nose, feeling it crack beneath my knuckles.

"Motherfucker!" I yelled, grabbing my hand and rubbing my now bruised knuckles. That fucking hurt! I heard laughter from the crowd and I scowled, thinking I needed to man up big time. I looked at the fucked opposite me as he jumped in place, seemingly psyching himself up for more. I raised my fists letting him know I wasn't backing down.

More punches were thrown, back and forth between the two of us. Neither one of us was trying to win, it was just…fun. It was like we were sparing in a boxing ring minus gloves. There was no anger involved, there was no point trying to be made, this wasn't a 'my dick is bigger' competition. The longer the fight went on, the more I got into it.

This strange calm washed over me. All my stress rolled off each time I threw a punch. I was _enjoying_ this. The cheers from the crowd spurred me on and I just let loose.

Adrenaline oozed through my veins, fueling me with every punch. The more I pushed, the more my opponent pushed back. I wasn't feeling each blow anymore. My body just reacted and responded on it's own. It was cathartic and I never felt so alive. Blood was dripping from my nose, I'm pretty sure I lost a tooth but I felt _great_.

The final hit was to my eye, splitting my eyebrow and causing my vision to blur. I stumbled backward, falling flat on my ass. I didn't even have to officially tap out, the other guy just knew.

Fight over, simple as that.

"Hey man, you alright?" he asked as he held out a hand to assist me. I looked at his hand and chuckled. After what we did to each other, he was still courteous. I was impressed.

"Yea. I'm good," I smiled wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. I let him take my hand and he pulled me to my feet. I was congratulated with pats on the back from those around me. "Good fight," I told him.

"Yea man, maybe again in a few weeks? After those heal," he motioned to the cuts and bruises that now adorned my face.

"Sure," I smiled, blood dribbling out of my mouth and down my chin. I didn't even fucking care. I felt better than I had in years. Relaxed, happy. It was fucking amazing. I already felt the camaraderie of the other men as I walked back into the crowd toward Japser. I felt pride and even accomplishment.

* * *

Now three months later, I looked back at my time in Fight Club. I started out going just once a week but I became addicted. I needed that sense of euphoria, it was like a drug. I stopped drinking and smoking. I started working out, wanting to be in prime physical condition for my next fight. It was all I ever thought about… at work, driving my car, in bed, while I shit, while I ate, and even while I fucked. Fight Club became a part of me.

Before the whole Project Mayhem thing, I was going to three fight clubs a week, almost always alongside Jasper. We even fought on occasion. Like so many others, I desperately wanted to go toe to toe with Tyler. We were all too chicken shit to actually tap him though. He wasn't even the greatest fighter, but just his presence was rather intimidating. The men treated him like a god and looked at him with respect. In a way, he was a savior of sorts.

Jasper had been one of the first applicants to stand on the porch for his three days. I was worried at first when he just dropped off the face of the earth. He stopped coming to Fight Club and he never picked up his phone. Then one day he found me, explaining Tyler's plans, _Project Mayhem. _He begged me to join him and honestly if Tyler was attached then I was all in.

Now I was the one on the _porch_, waiting to be accepted. The sun beat down on my black covered shoulders, causing me to sweat. I'd been waiting for several hours with no acknowledgement from the people inside. I heard movement but so far no one came out.

I was already getting bored. This street was dead, nothing but sounds of the nearby factories to occupy me. I didn't know how I was going to survive three days of this shit.

Finally, in late afternoon, Tyler himself stepped out on the porch. He was wearing a ridiculous pink bathrobe with a fucking fuzzy bunny on the right breast. I kept my eyes trained on the street ahead of me. I felt him look me over casually while eating a bowl of cereal.

"What the fuck are you doing on my porch?" he asked taking another bite. He chewed with his mouth open, making horrid chomping sounds.

I didn't move or answer having been warned of the shit he would likely say. Tyler made a circle around me, inspecting me as he clucked his tongue. He then stepped behind and breathed into my ear, "You have five minutes to get off my property before I call the cops."

I opened my mouth to speak but quickly shut it, tensing my jaw. Tyler then took the remainder of his cereal and dumped it over my head. The contents dripped down the sides of my face. I still didn't move. "Fucker," he said under his breath. He turned and went back in the house, slamming the door.

I licked the corner of my mouth at the streams of milk that still soaked my face. _Fruity Pebbles?_

Hours passed and he didn't call the cops. _Of course_. Instead he came out randomly, threatening me to get the fuck off his porch. I didn't budge. Even when he yelled in my face and slapped the shit out of the back of my head, I kept still and focused on the street. I stood through the night, shivering in the chilled LA night. I was left alone at night, no harassment.

The next morning brought Tyler out again, only this time he was wearing a shirt and tie. He stood directly in front of me, looking me in the eye.

"Look buddy, I know what you are trying to do but it's not going to happen, okay? We don't want you. Now stop embarrassing yourself and just go home to your mommy."

Again I remained silent. Tyler sighed and stepped off the porch.

I was alone for the rest of the day. I was starving, thirsty and incredibly tired. My leg muscles were starting to cramp and I had a splitting headache. I wanted to walk around, get some blood flowing but I had a feeling I was being watched. I couldn't make one false move, or I felt I would pay more for it later then I was deal with now.

The day wore into night again and Tyler grew more aggressive. He screamed at me, swore, he even hit me with a broom. And it wasn't the soft end; it was the fucking stick end of the broom. I felt like I was being caned. I didn't move. I was determined.

I noticed Tyler had two distinct personalities. One was completely fucking loony; the other was more subdued but still a little crazed. His mannerisms changed each time he came out. Even his posture and voice changed. I wasn't sure if it was a game or if he was really a fucking nuts as everyone said.

My second night on the porch was horrible. I was starting to feel weak from lack of food. Tyler stepped up his game, coming out to shout insults every thirty minutes or so like clockwork. I knew since I took to counting seconds and minutes to pass the time. He picked up my duffle bag and tossed it into the street.

"Get the fuck out of here! You're a fucking pussy. I bet you have a dick like a toddler. You aren't man enough for this!" he screamed in my face, our noses almost touching.

I didn't even flinch; at this point I only had around twenty four more hours. I could make it. I _would_ make it. This was going to be the one thing in my life that I wasn't going to give up on.

I stood firm as Tyler berated me for hours. On the morning of my third day, I was joined by a scrawny little kid dressed all in black, carrying his own duffle. He had all the tell tale scars of a fellow fight club member. I didn't recognize him, but I was told that there was more than one club in the LA area. He took position a couple of feet away from me and folded his hands behind his back. He didn't say anything to me or nor I to him. My other thought was he was really young. He was noticed right away and Tyler came out to start the game. He wasn't able to pull the same stunts, seeing as how I was here, he couldn't deny that the boy had found the right house.

The first time Tyler laid into him I could see the boy's resolve start to crumble. Once Tyler went inside, the boy started to leave but I stopped him. This was a serious violation of the rules but I wasn't going to let this kid be beaten by Tyler and his games.

I started straight ahead, trying not to make it look obvious that I was talking to him, "Don't leave. It's a test." I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.

"Huh?" Either he didn't hear me or he didn't get it. I sighed, knowing if I was caught I would be rejected or have to stay out here for yet another three days.

_Stupid fucking kid!_

"It's a game...a test He tries to break your will, convince you to leave. If you stay the three days, you'll be accepted. Trust me."

"Oh." He dropped his bag back by his feet and turned to face the same direction as me. "Thanks. I'm Mike by the way."

"Edward," I stated. Silence again. I honestly hoped this boy didn't break.

The clock was running down. I had horrible cotton mouth, I could barely keep my eyes open and I really needed to take a shit. My back was killing me, but I wasn't going to give up now. I _needed_ this. I had no family, a psycho cheating bitch for an ex-girlfriend and a dead end job. My life sucked.

Fight Club and it's homework assignments became my shining light. The reason I crawled out of bed every morning. The reason I didn't jump off the high rise building I dragged my ass to everyday.

It made me feel alive, redeemed. I loved the squishing sound of a fist connecting with the bloody pulp of a broken nose, the sharp but pleasant pain of digging my tongue into the socket of a knocked out tooth. I loved that once the fight was over, there were never hard feelings. The fights ended with a man hug, a pat on the back and an offer to do it again the next week.

My joining Project Mayhem was the next logical step. As with any drug, I would eventually develop a tolerance to the fighting. I would lose that high I felt and that terrified me. I had to have more.

Beside me Mike was fidgeting, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Same thing I did those first hours, before I just completely zoned out.

Finally, Tyler came out, once again in his ratty pink bathrobe. He stepped in front of me, casually scratching his chin. "You got everything on the list?"

I didn't know if I should speak or it was a test. When I didn't respond, Tyler rolled his eyes.

"Speak," he said.

"Yes, sir," I replied. During my preparation for this, Jasper had also informed me to call him sir.

"Your five hundred dollars of personal burial money?"

"In my sock, sir," I told him.

He nodded absently; he stopped scratching his chin and moved to his balls, really itching hard. I think he was nude under the robe. He didn't remove his hand as he incessantly itched. I knew that the Tyler in front of me now, this was the looney one. The bathrobe gave it away.

"Well then, get your stuff and come in," he yawned.

I bent down to pick up my duffle bag. Tyler turned to Mike, looking him over. "I told you; get the fuck off my porch. You are too young." He took his hand that was scratching his dick and balls and rubbed it under Mike's nose.

"Inhale," Tyler smiled. The corners of Mike's mouth turned down in disgust and he took in the stank off Tyler's hand. It made me sick to just watch and I was glad he hadn't thought of that during my three days.

"Leave!" he yelled, slapping Mike's face.

He turned to me as he sneered at Mike one last time, "Come."

Tyler escorted me into the house and I was hit with the overwhelming smell of soap. Men dressed in all black were doing various chores. He led me to the kitchen and gestured for me to sit on one of the stools surrounding the table.

"Sit and don't move,' he commanded.

"Yes, sir."

Gesturing around the kitchen, "Welcome to Project Mayhem." Tyler rested his palms flat on the table leaning down to eye level with me. "You have no name here. You will only know the function of the team you are assigned with. You will do your tasks without question."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know how to make soap?" he asked picking up a small tin can from the table.

I shook my head no.

"Give me your right hand." Tyler held out his left hand and I placed my hand in his. He stroked my hand almost tenderly before bringing it to his lips for a sloppy kiss. "Like a fucking baby's bottom," he said with a crazed look. The back of my hand was literally wet from his saliva. "So nice and so delicate," he said, caressing my hand. I was thoroughly confused.

"T-thank you, sir," I stuttered looking at my hand, wondering where this was going.

With his other hand he took off the lid of the tin can, "Do you know what lye is?"

"Umm...vaguely…sir."

He nodded again as he tilted the can over my right hand. The flakes sprinkled over the wetness left by Tyler's kiss. I looked up at Tyler's face. He looked amused. It was several seconds before my brain started to register the searing pain. The pain was so intense it streaked up my arm through my whole body. The burn was excruciating. I tried to jerk away but Tyler held my hand in place.

"This is chemical burn and it will hurt more than you've ever been burned," he smirked.

The only thought that crossed my mind was, "What the fuck did I get myself into?" But that was replace by blood curdling screams that I never knew I could make.


End file.
